Bunker

If you are on the East Coast, and especially if you are in the Mid-Atlantic and Northeast, you are probably bunkering down today. The wind outside is already howling and the worst is yet to come. Awesome.

I am bunkering down with some reading, some writing, and cookies I baked in case the lights go out at some point. My play has been printed out, the iPad, Kindle, laptop, and phone have been charged, the batteries and flashlights are in an easily reachable spot. I may not have much food, but I will have no excuse not to write or read (well, unless something really crazy happens). Speaking of which, I should probably go and bake the rest of my cookie dough because...you know...in case.

Anyway, I finished reading Steven Pressfield's The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles yesterday and loved it. I recommend it to everyone, honestly, but especially you other writers and artists out there. I came across a line in the book that I loved and, since I've been up since 6am FOR NO REASON OTHER THAN MY BODY HATES ME, I decided to make up a little imagey thing.

Enjoy (and stay dry my fellow east coasters)!